Dizzy Up The Girl
by Kaylinwish
Summary: Things change, the Afterlife goes on, and sometimes unlife throws a curve ball. AU after Season 1. GM
1. Broadway

Title: Dizzy Up The Girl  
Author: obiwankatie  
Characters: Mason/George  
Genres: Romance/Angst  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Language? No spoilers, I don't think.  
Summary: Growing up is hard enough, but growing up as a Grim Reaper is hellish. And being a new Reaper, George hasn't learned all the ropes and rules of dating while undead. People tend to date within their profession, and Reapers aren't much different.

Chapter Title: Broadway

_You see you'd love to run home, but you know you ain't got one__  
__Cause you're livin' in a world that you're best forgotten, around here__  
__Goo Goo Dolls_

Eternally eighteen – isn't that every woman's fantasy? Never to age or wrinkle or fade. I'm pretty sure that's why women are so obsessed with buying makeup, lotions and shit like that: some vain attempt to slow the progression of age, as if that could also possibly delay their inevitable death.

Of course, I'm not immortal. Well, ok, in a sense I can't be killed. I'm already dead. But sooner or later I'll be done being dead and just be… less on this earth and more on some other plane. Hopefully.

It's been three years since my sudden and unfortunate death. I haven't grown any taller, which I didn't expect whether I was alive or dead since my period hit when I was young, sufficiently halting the growth production gland to keep me at a proper short height. I haven't developed any more than I was when that toilet seat hit me. My hair hasn't even grown out that much, though I've debated getting it cut and trying something new.

Bottom line – I haven't changed at all. You can also add the fact that I was a virgin when I died, and I have yet to meet a charming young man whom I could spend the rest of my potentially long afterlife with. Maybe I have met him, but I sure as hell don't know. And the few guys that I've liked thus far in my afterlife have either died or been scared away. I should probably work on my people skills. I should work quickly if I want to get laid in the near future, at least.

Sex. Just thinking about it bothers me. I could always just find a random guy like Mason finds random girls. I guess I just harbor a bitter resentment for never having the chance to be utterly and completely disappointed with a roll in the hay with a member of the opposite sex while I was young and impressionable (and alive). Not that I'm morbid or pessimistic or anything. But I didn't have any luck in life, and death is just proving to be one suck-fest after the next.

I don't know why I'm feeling so horny recently. It's not as though any of the guys I'm around on a daily basis are sexually attractive. Rube's like my dad, and I've seen Mason in his torn up British short shorts. I still shiver thinking about that, and not in the good way. And the guys at my day job have succeeded at looking below average. I guess it's just the hormones.

I had to get a soul after getting off at Happy Time, so I stopped at 15th and Market, got A. Miller before he got hit by the SUV, and sent him on his way to the bright lights that formed a symphony. I guess he was into music. I don't really care. I'm hungry.

I walk into the house and find Daisy sitting on the sofa with Mason using the last of his minimally low will power to not seem completely and utterly desperate when he so obviously is. My hormonal desire upgrades to anger. Perhaps some jealousy is thrown in to the mix. Daisy always just sits there and ignores him, ignores the offerings of a guy wanting to spend the rest of whatever forever we've got with her and, instead, goes out for one-nighters and quick blow jobs, which I can't imagine getting any joy from giving out like popsicles. If I had a guy throwing himself at me like that, I can't imagine I'd just ignore it. Granted, Mason is a slob and drug addict, but he's got a little quirky charm and the accent is pretty adorable.

To keep from being angry around them, I take a round-about route to the kitchen to make something resembling food before heading up to my room and a possible book. I finally got into the Gregory McGuire books with their morbid twist on fairytales and children's stories.

There's the same variety of food in our pantry as their has been in the past year – Ramen noodles, a few cans of vegetables for variety and a box of cereal that I'm afraid to touch for fear of some sort of mold jumping onto me and using my dead skin as a new host.

So noodles it is.

A quick boil and scurry past the couple on the couch and I'm in the safety of my room, sipping on the hot broth of the chicken noodles and reading a book about the wicked witch of the west.

And when I say 'safety of my room' I really just mean the short silence of it, for my solitude is interrupted when Daisy clip-clops her way up the stairs, enters unannounced and begins her daily rant about how I brought Mason home a year ago and that he's now my responsibility since he's nothing more than a pathetic lost puppy who thinks he somehow lives here. "It's not like he has any brains to deduce that he has a home or could easily squat in some dead guy's place for a few weeks to at least give us a break from his annoying nature, but till he figures that out, _you_ get to keep him entertained. He's followed me around nearly all day and I can't take it any more. I need to get out of this place." And as quickly as she entered the room she was gone, the front door opening and closing only seconds later.

Fantastic. Another night with the amazing fuck-up.

I put down the book and carry my bowl of dinner back downstairs. There's Mason, just sitting there on the sofa staring at the front door with a mix of longing and loss. Yup. A sad puppy.

"She's not coming back for a while, you know." I have to break the silence and get him to at least recognize my presence in the doorway.

"I think if I think about it hard enough she will return. Maybe her heel will break and she'll be forced to return to the sanctuary of her house where she'll fall into my lap and admit she loves me and wants me as much as I want her." He finally looks up at me, a crooked smile on his face.

"When I said she wasn't coming back for a while, I meant that you should probably go, too. Perhaps find a place to live besides on our sofa." His response was a dumb stare with an equally dumb head tilt that screamed 'what the hell are you doing talking to me?'. Asshole.

So, new approach. "Mason, as much as you adore Daisy you have to give her space and an opportunity to actually _miss_ you. Getting your own place would allow you that away time that you need in order to get her. Plus, she's a high class girl. Get a good enough place and fill it with expensive clothing and shoes and I'm sure she'll flock to you like flies on honey."

He leans forward at my statement, folding his hands together as though he's considering my idea.

And, what do you know; he stands up and takes my arm, walking out of the house with me. "Then if I'm needing a place to stay, you're gonna have to help me find it. I need the best of the best for Daisy."

That's when I stop helping and start running. "No. No, no _way_ am I helping you actually nail her! I'm inspiration, that's all. I'm not helping you get laid or get a girl or anything like that."

"Hey, no need to be a cock blocker! You want me out just as bad as she does!"

I sigh, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms over my chest as I normally do when dealing with a situation that makes me wish was I watching paint dry. "I'm not… blocking your cock. I'm just not helping you find a place to put it in! I've never even gotten any, why should I help you get more?"

Ok, so maybe that was a little too much to tell to the poor little horny British man, and it was probably the most I've ever said about the subject to anyone, but suddenly his eyes changed from pleading to pity. "You've never got'n shagged?"

I think if I had to walk through Times Square naked in order to take back the words I just confessed I would. Instead, I turn around and walk back into my house. But Mason follows me like the man-dog breed that he is. Follows right on my heels suddenly confounded with my lack of a sex life over the past 3 undead years and prior 18 living ones.

"P'rhaps that explains your bitterness and anger towards everyone and everything that moves! Listen, Georgie, sex can completely change your life! You won't have to be so uptight and unpleasant all the time! We just need to find someone that you can do it with… I mean, I'd totally shag you, but I don't think Daisy would take to kindly to me being disloyal to her so close to home, ya know? Random girl on the street she ignores, but little Georgie she lives with? She'd never forgive me."

There he goes again, rambling and getting too involved in my afterlife once again. "Ah, yes, we wouldn't want Daisy, who's never going to show any interest for you no matter how much attention you shower her with, to be heartbroken because you had sex with poor little old me."

"Wait, you _wanna_ shag me?"

Jesus.

"No, Mason. I don't want some pity fuck or some one night thing. I got pulled into the afterlife before I really had a chance to live and experience things. It's been three years since I became a reaper and I've realized that I never really coped with it all. The dying. The more living. I was still part kid when I died, so sex wasn't really big on the 'things to do before I die' list. But now I have died and I guess it jumped up a few notches, but I still have the childish fantasy that I could have an actual relationship with someone. So then I try it, and I'm told I can't have a relationship with the living. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Search the city for a reaper that sees a relationship between the two of us? Fall in love with a ghost that doesn't want to leave this world yet? I don't want a shag, Mason! I want love. I was denied it by my mom and dad near the end of my life, I can't find anyone to stay around and show it to me now, and I'm alone even when I live with Daisy. I want love, Mason. Not just sex."

He just kinda stared at me with his jaw hanging slightly open. I guess I surprised him. Hell, I surprised myself.

He didn't move for nearly a whole minute. So I did; I walked to my room and shut the door, thinking for the second time that night that I couldn't be interrupted from my silence by someone walking into my room that lacked a lock. I don't know when I became so senile to forget that all someone had to do was twist the knob to open the door. I guess I figure that no one would bother actually wanting to see or talk to me.

Then again, after what I just apparently admitted to myself and him all at once, I guess I'm a little too naïve to think he would just stand in the dining room all night with his jaw hanging open looking like an idiot. Four minutes later, after sitting down to my book, he was in my room and standing a little too close for comfort.

"What do you want, Mason?" I mutter, going back to mumbling indistinguishably.

"You're telling me you, the ever sour and unhappy George, are looking for love?"

I know that my stare can't actually burn a hole through someone, but right now I'm really hoping some new reaper power will develop in my brain so I can burn another hole into Mason's head. "Go away, Mason. Go find a place to live and stop bugging me. I'm done with my confessions for the night and you've got a girl to go snag."

I turn back to my book, but I can still feel his stare. It's like pity, only not. I guess you could say this is where he starts to see me as something more than 'toilet girl' or where the revelation came that I could possibly be a better catch than Daisy 'Blow Job' Adair. I don't know what's going through his mind, but he's tilting his head slightly to the side and looking at me like he always looks at Daisy. Like a wolf. Oh god. I've become his new prey.


	2. Slide

Title: Dizzy Up The Girl  
Author: Kaylinwish  
Characters: Mason/George  
Genres: Romance/Angst  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Language? No spoilers, I don't think.  
A/N- I don't own Dead like me, else it never would've gone off the air.

Chapter 2: Slide

_Do you wake up on your own?_

_And wonder where you are?_

_You live with all your faults?_

_Goo Goo Dolls_

So this is really starting to freak me out. I'm sitting at Der Waffle Hause trying to wake up enough to get on to Happy Time when Mason arrives and sits next to Rube. That boy has never passed up the chance to sit next to Daisy. And he's all jumpy, like he's been smoking something.

Rube's ignoring him. I'm trying to look at my eggs instead of his gaze on me. Roxy finally arrives and sits next to Mason. She follows his gaze and gives me a weird look.

"George, why in the hell is this crack job eyeing you?" She then turns to said crack job. "And what the hell drug did you do this morning?"

"I din't do any drugs, Rox. I am simply happy to be here. And I'm looking at George because she looks different today. Don't you see it?"

Bastard. I tilt my head down and give him my death glare from under my eyebrows. It's been only a few days since he set his sight on me, and he's making my life an unliving hell. Thankfully he's found another place to squat, but he's been virtually stalking me since he moved out. He hops in my car to ride with me to work, and it's not like we have a conversation or anything. I drive in silence while he plays aerodynamics with his hand. When I leave the building for lunch he's by my side. We went to a little café yesterday; he paid. I nearly shit myself when I walked out of the building later that day and he locked his arm around mine to walk me to my car.

There are so many questions I want to ask him. Like, are you hanging outside my office building all day long? Aren't there better things you could be doing? Don't you get tired of doing nothing?

But I settle for angry silence when he's walking with me. He hasn't tried to initiate conversation yet, but I've got a feeling he's gonna try to today. Call it gut instinct. And after getting our Post-its and escaping from a sticky situation of talking to the group about Mason's creepy behavior and stalking, I'm out of the restaurant and on my way to my car. I open the door while he ops to hop over the passenger door. Start up car, and back out.

"So I'm cool with the silence and all, but I'm worried you don't get what I'm doin' here." Yeah, today's the day he talks.

"Mason, you're trying to prove something to me. You can be dedicated. Good job. You've become a puppy dog." Just look at the road.

"I am not a dog, George. I'm trying to show you that I care! I'm not just trying to get sex out of you, I want the relationship! _A_ relationship"

"You just wanted a relationship with Daisy, and now you're latching onto me. You're confused and stupid and probably high on something, even if you lied to Roxy about it," I throw to my side, still watching the road.

I'm pretty sure if we were walking he'd do something silly and romantic, like grab my shoulders and force me to listen to him. As it is, we're in a car and that kind of action would defiantly make me late for work, and probably draw a little bit too much attention to the girl driving the stolen car. So he sighs and lies back in his seat. He's waiting until I park. Great.

So as soon as I throw the car into park, I jump out and walk as fast as I can to the office building. But he's taller and has long legs. Dammit.

"George, please listen," he pleads, without grabbing my shoulders. Thank god. I don't like being forced into things.

"Mason, I have a job that I need to get to." I'm careless and look up into his eyes. Big mistake. They're so… big and… pathetic. "Mason… just stop thinking I'm Daisy. I'm not." I pat his shoulder and walk past him.

He just stands there, kinda stunned. I look back once I'm inside the glass doors of the lobby. I stunned him. That's cool. Except I don't know why he's still standing there with that confused look on his face. Did I sound sad when I told him that? A little heartbroken? I guess I kind of liked him for a while, harbored a bit of a crush on him when I was a newbie at the reaping. Now he's like my brother. My drugged up, fucked-up brother.

Incest is wrong.

Except Daisy's like a sister. So my family tree has a few problems.

Work. Right. Elevator, there you are! I think he's still standing there as the door closes to take me to Happy Time.

My work day is effectively shattered with the delivery of a bouquet of roses to my desk. '_Meet me at Cicero's at noon'._

It's only a half hour from now. And Dolores noticed the flowers, as did the entire floor. "So, Millie, you have a secret admirer you're not telling me about?"

"No, Delores, he's not a secret admirer. He's not so suave with the 'secret' part." I chance it and smell the roses. As far as scents go, they're pretty good. "He's been bothering me the past few days. An old friend. But he's not really into me. It's just a phase."

Why do I tell her so much? I know she's a friend, but she doesn't need to know all about my life.

"Millie, you should gather ye rosebuds! He likes you enough to spend good money on you – roses are expensive around Valentine's Day!" She steps through my invisible barrier and smells the pink roses.

_Gather ye rosebuds_… I've heard that before.

"He wants me to meet him for lunch in a half hour. Is that asking too much?"

Delores looks around the office, I guess pretending to make sure no one is listening in to her favoritism. "Of course it's ok, Millie. You're young and have a man who's in love with you. Young love should be grabbed by the horns!"

What the hell cliché book did she read recently? Oh well, I get a long lunch break. And when the time comes around I put on my coat and scarf and leave, walking a block to the pizza parlor. It was only a brisk cold this morning, but I think the temperature dropped over the morning. I can almost see my breath. I think it's supposed to snow tonight.

The pizza parlor's nice and warm when I walk in. He's already got a booth, and a large pizza that he's digging into, by the looks of it. I guess me actually meeting him is a surprise, 'cause his eyebrows shoot up in a trademarked Mason look. "You… came."

"Yes, Mr. Obvious." I take off the protective outerwear and toss it into the booth across from him before sliding in after it.

"I jus'… din't expect you to actually be here."

"Well, I'm here." Now who's stating the obvious. "I've got a half hour, Mason."

"I'm well aware of your lunch break." He puts down his pizza and slides the box to offer me a slice. Cheese, my favorite! He's being creepy again, watching me as I eat. He looks like he's trying to say something, and I've got pizza in my mouth so I'm not about to initiate a conversation. Then he kind of just spills out in a jumble, "I know you're not Daisy and I'm not trying to replace you with her just because she's unattainable."

Okay, the pizza can be eaten on the walk back to work if he's wanting to get into _this_ argument.

But before I can finish chewing the bit already in my mouth, he's continuing with, "I'm not saying Daisy's unattainable, because she is. I got a kiss out of her. But it's the chasing that I like, and she's letting me chase her. And she is beautiful. But you're beautiful, too. And you're the one who I can actually talk to. I wanted sex with Daisy, George. With you I want more."

His little monologue is so sweet that I almost hate to ruin it with the words I know I have to say, but I can't just lead him on and hurt him any further. "Mason," I start out slowly, taking his hands from across the table. He's not wearing his fingerless gloves, for once, and his skin is strangely soft. "Mason, I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you, but you're like a brother to me. I became a reaper and you became my big brother, watching me. Or maybe my little brother that I have to keep out of trouble. But you feel like family. And you still want Daisy. You'll always want her until you get her and then you won't want her anymore. It's the way guys are. And once you get me you won't want me anymore. I know you see me as a sister. This weird fixation you've got on me will go away and you'll still love Daisy after.

I've kept my eyes glued on his neck and shirt, but something slips down into my view, and I look up. He's crying. That's really weird. I'm not saying anything strange or mean. But his eyes are all shiny and tears are falling down out of the corners. Mason's a bad actor, and he rarely cries. Maybe I misjudged his affections for me.

Suddenly I'm not just a new obsession. And I'm no longer comfortable with our handholding. I have enough sense in me to grab my purse, but my coat and scarf are left behind as I stumble out of the pizza place and back towards Happy Time. I think my mouth is still hanging open, but I can't really feel my face. Partially cause of the cold, but I think mostly because I'm still in shock. Mason was crying. Beause of me. And not my words of denial, but the meaning behind them.

He wasn't just put out. He was… heartbroken. Daisy's turned him down a hundred plus times, and he's always shrugged it off and tried again. He hasn't cried, at least, not to me.

I'm no longer hungry, and the rest of my day sorta just goes by. My brain is too numb to notice much of anything.

After work, Mason isn't at the corner. He isn't waiting in my car. He isn't even at Der Waffle Haus, though no one else in the gang is there either. I've got a reap at six, but I have to check the only other place I can think of. My house. Daisy's sitting on the sofa watching an old movie and probably reliving her past.

"Have you seen Mason?"

"Poor kid. Ran into him this afternoon. He was all… torn up. You wouldn't happen to know why, now would you Georgia?" She's looking at me with an 'I know it's your fault so you should just tell me what's going on' look.

"Nope. Just worried about him, that's all. Did he say where he was going?"

She turns back to her movie. "No. He's probably at his new apartment. Or, I guess, his new squat. It's probably dilapidated and poorly decorated."

"Fine. I've got a reap to do. I'll be back later."

She responds as I'm nearly to the door. "Good. Then you can explain to me why he was crying and upset."

Yay.

R. Holds committed suicide that night after another stressful day at… work, I guess. Jumped in front of a city bus. I reaped him nearly just in time. He got his lights, I didn't bother to see what they were. It hurts every single time someone gets to walk into those lights and go wherever they get to go. Especially when they willingly give up their life like that.

I don't want to get home and be interrogated by Daisy for the next three hours until she grows tired of me and goes back to her own sorrows. And I don't want to go to Rube's and get kicked out because he doesn't like company. But I'm hungry, and Der Waffle Haus is just down the street. A quick drive later, I'm looking over the menu for a dinner entrée.

Kiffany's waiting on me to decide. Breakfast or lunch food? It's such a tough decision. So I close my eyes and point to the menu. "Looks like I'll have a pattymelt with fries and coffee."

She smiles and nods before heading towards the kitchen. I'm lost in my own thoughts for a few minutes, until a body sliding into the other side of the booth pulls me out of it.

"Mason."

He gives me a shaky smile and reaches for a menu. "Jus' got back from a reap and I'm bloody hungry. There's no food in my place, and it's not like I could make anythin' even if I had stuff."

"You don't have to explain why you're here, Mason."

You can cut the awkwardness with a knife.

"Right." Kiffany's back, and he orders some waffles. "So how's your evening been?"

"Fine. Had a reap, too. Daisy's watching movies at home. I think it was _Gone with the Wind_, but I'm not sure."

"Tha's nice." Awkward feeling went up by about times ten. Change subject, change subject…

"So I'm reading a really cool book about the Wicked Witch of the West."

"Oh? I haven't read a book in a while."

"I can lend it to you. I'm nearly done. It's making me rethink the entire _Wizard of Oz_ movie. I guess becoming a grim reaper made me rethink some of the whole 'taking lives' thing, and this just adds to it. I'm becoming a whole new person." I try to smile to lighten the mood, and he plays along by smiling back.

"The last book I read was about a famous drug addict… there was a movie made about it, too…"

"_Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_?"

"Yeah! About Hunter Thompson. Man, that guy did just about everything, and lived to tell the tale. He died, like, jus' a year ago or somethin'."

Our conversation is oddly intellectual. We talk about books until our food arrives. Then we eat in semi-silence, breaking it to ask about passing a condiment or two. He tosses a twenty down onto the table after he's done, covering our meals twice over, and heads toward the door. Only Rube is that stoic. Well fuck being ignored like that! I grab my purse and chase him down outside.

It's dark out now, and it started snowing since I went in to eat, so now it's butt fuck freezing, and staring Mason down until he turns to face me makes me wish I was wearing more than my business skirt suit. "Mason. You can't just leave!"

He turns around and hugs his exposed hands into his elbows. "Wha' are you talking about, Georgie? I'm letting you be, going back to my place to watch some TV, probably drink a bit."

"You didn't even say good-bye. We had a nice conversation after our pretty strange afternoon and then you just up and leave?"

He rolls his eyes; I guess he gets why I'm a little upset. "I guess we both know what it's like for someone to just leave the other behind in a restaurant then, now don't we?" He tilts his head and narrows his eyes and I swear to god if I wasn't so damn cold I'd stop shaking from the chill and start shaking with anger. But I don't know what to say. Any witty or snarky comeback I could come up with goes right out of my head. He was hurt today at lunch. And now he's trying to pay me back. I can be mad at him for it, but I can't blame him for it.

So I say the only thing I can think of. "I'm sorry." I guess it was the right thing to say. He probably hasn't heard an apology in a while. But it must be good, cause he walks over to me and gives me his coat. "You're going to freeze," I warn.

He shrugs, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and heading me towards my car. "You left your coat this afternoon. I brought it home. We can go get it, and then you and I will both be fine."

He's sweet when he's like this. So we get in my car, top up, and I follow his directions to his new place. "Got it a few days ago, tip from a friend. The girl bought the place, then leaves it for her boyfriend-fiancé, and he doesn't know, so when she dies he just runs."

"You still have to pay bills, though, right?" I ask while he unlocks the door. It's a pretty nice place. I wonder how long it'll take him to trash it. I didn't get past the living room before he's handing me my coat with my scarf draped over his arm.

"Yeah, but I've got some money in the bank." I take off the coat he lent me and toss it over the sofa and let him help me into my blue winter coat. "If you stay here I'll make a bigger fool of myself than I already 'ave."

It's not like he needs to explain his kicking me out of his place as soon as I walk in. I may not be all that together with understanding signals, but I know he's embarrassed and wanting to lick his wounds in private.

"I know. I'm tired, anyway. Long day and all." My sentences couldn't possibly be shorter. He's wrapping my scarf around my neck and pulling it through a loop to knot it. I let him dress me. I hadn't let my mother put my coat and accessories on me since I was four, and now I'm letting him bundle me up for the short walk to my car. This has been such a strange day. "Thanks for taking my coat and scarf. I'll see you in the morning." I smile once more before walking back out of the place. I hope he'll be okay.

Daisy's still on that sofa when I walk in the door. She needs a job. But she summons me to her side, and I obey like the stupid bowling pin that I am, and tell her everything that happened to me today. Of course, I omit anything pertaining to Mason and his stalking of me, the fiasco at the pizza parlor, and the admitting of feelings on his behalf. I don't want to completely ruin his chances of getting her once he agrees his feelings for me aren't genuine.

But I can't get his broken face out of my head. Or that quick flash of hope in his eyes when I smiled before leaving his place. My sleep comes easy to me, for once. But he's everywhere, and I wake up in the middle of the night confused with a huge heartache. I wait it out and fall back asleep, knowing I'll deal with it in the morning. I always do.


	3. January Friend

Title: Dizzy Up The GirlAuthor: obiwankatie  
Characters: Mason/George  
Genres: Romance/Angst  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Language?  
Summary: Growing up is hard enough, but growing up as a Grim Reaper is hellish. And being a new Reaper, George hasn't learned all the ropes and rules of dating while undead. People tend to date within their profession, and Reapers aren't much different.  
A/n – I don't own Dead like me, else it never would've gone off the air. Also unbeta'd, as my past two chapters have been.

Chapter 3: January Friend

_Don't cry out loud  
You've gotta bear your cross but never dream too loud_

_Goo Goo Dolls_

The days following 'the fiasco', as I've come to call it to myself, could be characterized as quiet and normal – in Reaper terms. Mason didn't make me feel guilty about my lack of feelings, and he didn't even give off any suspicious vibe that Rube, Daisy or Roxy could latch on to. It was something that just _might _stay between us. I guess I like thinking that a secret could actually stay between two people.

So now it's been four days, and he's no longer outright staring at me, although I catch him glancing at me when he thinks I'm not really paying attention. It's an improvement. He's not following me to work anymore, although he still takes me out to lunch. I'm not gonna complain about a free lunch, even though he's probably still trying to win my affections. I shouldn't use him like this; I feel too much like Daisy. But maybe he's just doing it to mend our friendship. He needs a real friend, as do I.

I don't get a chance to even sit down in Der Waffle Hause before Rube's handing me a post-it. ETD: 8:25. I've got twenty minutes to get to the hospital and find my guy.

"I hate you." I give him a nice long glare in return for the early morning reap.

"Hey, peanut, I've told you before that this is not my fault," he replies, holding up a hand in defense while the other forks a piece of waffle.

I turn around and walk out, deciding to risk the coffee at work after my reap.

Hospitals don't really bother me like they do other people. I never had a parent or grandparent that had to stay in one that would leave a childhood memory of the sterile smell or of death. I've been to Saint Mary's for a few reaps, and the numbers on this post-it tell me I'm probably going to the surgical wing. Great - complications due to surgery.

I'm in a rush to find M. Bonefay and get to work, so I don't notice the Reaper following me until I'm leaving the woman's room. Poor girl. She never should've gotten those implants.

The Reaper, a red-head that couldn't be much older than Daisy, wears the white coat of someone important in the hospital. Honestly, I've never taken the time to figure out the difference between all the different uniforms. I know what scrubs are, probably solely because of the show named after them, and doctors in other hospital dramas always wear white lab coats, but I can't tell if this Reaper's a doctor, attendee, intern, or scientist – hey, I really don't know my hospital terminology.

She doesn't bother introducing herself, just crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a death glare. "Can I help you?"

"Um… You know, doing my job." Can't she tell I'm a Reaper, too? I could tell when other people were Reapers on my first day. Maybe I'm just special.

"I know you're doing your job, but this is _my_ surgery." My blank stare in response to her complaint seems to have made her even angrier with me. "I have to take her into surgery and cut her open!"

"I'm… sorry. I have to take her before she leaves for surgery, and I guess that's soon, so here I am." I hold the post-it up in defense. Angry doctor woman is intimidating, even if she's no taller than me and has crazy wild red hair. Actually, it's probably the crazy wild red hair that makes her seem, well, crazy. "I don't know anything about this, but shouldn't you be scrubbing in or something?"

She rolls her eyes. "Just because every other show on TV deals with hospitals, everyone thinks they know all about surgeries and medical conditions."

"No, I know I still know nothing, but if she's your patient and you're running the surgery, I thought you might be in there doing something important. She's supposed to grow a few cups sizes in just a few minutes and all."

Nameless red-head glances at her watch. "Looks like it's time for my team to kill her."

I don't think I'm supposed to say anything in response. At least, I can't think of anything to say that won't sound completely heartless or overly pathetic and sappy. "I guess I'll get back to my other job now."

That was thoroughly awkward. Well, with a slight skip in my step, though not actually skipping because my heals would never allow for such a joyous activity, I head off to work knowing I'm not going to have to skip out early for a reap or have to pull some late-night shit like a few weeks ago. It should be a good day.

I spend my morning wondering about the unnamed Reaper doctor. She looked so young. I wonder if she wanted to be a doctor when she was alive and had started studying medicine before her death. I shouldn't be thinking that much into it, but what if she picked it up after she became a Reaper? She could've gone to college post-mortem. It's not like I'm inspired by her unknown feat, but what if she spent her first few years as a Reaper as a temp like me?

If I had stayed in college, I would've probably majored in history. My dad encouraged it, because getting a history degree normally turns the recipient into a teacher, or a professor. I could follow in his shoes.

Maybe I should go back to college. It'd give me something to focus on. Some constantly changing challenge ending with a degree in something that I'll probably never even use. If I'm just going to be a temp with a degree, then I don't see a reason to pay for a piece of paper. I could study something interesting, like psychology or sociology. Hey, I'm always watching people anyway. Why not know what I see in them? Betty was like a mini sociologist with her grouping of people and being able to tell which group they were in just by looking at them.

My lunch hour came around much faster than I expected. Apparently time flies when you're not focusing on work. Like normal, as soon as I walk out of the skyscraper's lobby doors, Mason appears beside me, hands in his pockets and winter clothing that makes him look like a slightly metro hobo.

I bring up the thought of going back to college over sub sandwiches. That's an understatement; I test the idea with Mason to judge if I should bring up the subject with Rube. Mason reacts with a surprised look and tries talking through the food in his mouth, but my disgusted response makes him stop and finish chewing before continuing. "Wha' in the world would make you want to waste money like that? Better yet, why the sudden desire to go back to school?"

"It's not a desire, just an idea. I'm going to be undead for a while, and I figure I should probably do something to get a better job. I have pretty shitty skills, and I don't want to be a temp for the rest of my un-life."

He gives me a head tilt, then a nod of understanding with a shrug. "I suppose it's not that strange."

"Going to college is strange?"

"No. But you're a Reaper. It's not like you can major in 'Clue' to make your real job easier." I like when he mentions old memories. It's like we're best friends, or old friends. Either way, I have a friend.

"No, but I could do something that could help me get a job with more flexibility. Something that I actually enjoy."

He does the thing where he points his food at me to emphasize his point. "There is seriously nothing I can see you studying." I glare back at him as he takes another bite of his sandwich. "I mean, sure you'd probably be really good with all that useless knowledge that History majors cram into their heads. And you'd probably be a decent anthropologist. But what would you _do_ with that, huh? I see college as a waste of four years of your life. No employer really gives half a shit about what you studied, just so long that you studied something in some place that gives out rewards for staying the four, five, six years that it takes."

Hopefully Rube won't be this bitter about universities and colleges.

"Well, Mason, I want to make the most of the extra time I've got. I'm gonna be here a while, and I don't want to work at Happy Time for most of it. Besides, there are lots of cute guys at college. Maybe I'll find a boyfriend in the history department."

Surprisingly, he doesn't go all quiet and withdrawn as I expected by my pretty mean jab. He takes another bite of his sandwich and smiles. "Relationships with the living are hard. Especially long term ones. They age, you don't. They normally want kids, no Reaper has successfully bred; they die, you're already dead. But maybe you'll reap the guy you're dating!"

Mason has never been bitchy. Not once since I met him has he been a snotty little bitch. Except for now. I shouldn't be so freaked out; he's been acting strange for the past few weeks. That whole crying thing when I turned him down, the quazi-stalking he's been doing with me, and he doesn't smell like alcohol anymore. He could be sobering up. Maybe he's changing, going through some Reaper mid-life crisis. That'd make sense. He's been a Reaper for over forty years.

He should just steal a sports car and stop trying to ruin my unlife.

I've been silent a while, and I think he gets that he pissed me off. Since I was trying to make him mad, he probably feels justified. But I'm not going to talk to him about my short-term future anymore. Lesson learned. He really is a big brother – putting me down and making me feel like shit. Good job, Mason.

He tries apologizing, maybe realizing that his words hurt more than he intended. "George, I'm sorry. You don't really have a variety of guys throwing themselves at you of the undead variety, and there's nothing wrong with dating the living. It's a whole load of bullshit when Rube tells you otherwise. I shouldn't've said that at all. The chances of you reaping your boyfriend are terribly low."

"I gotta get back to work."

I only finished half of my sandwich, and he almost reaches for it to finish it off before he realizes that I'm leaving angry at him. When he hurries to my side, the sandwich is in a bag. "George, wait up. I didn't mean to make you mad. You pushed my button, so I pushed back."

"Whatever, Mason." I try ignoring him as I walk back to work, but he's on my heels and trying to explain himself. Something about how he just can't stand the idea of me with another guy, how he still likes me, and I think he mentioned something about having his first period, but I could've added that as an explanation for his recent craziness.

He finally grabs me before I walk into my building, pulling on my elbow and getting in front of me. "George, please listen to me. Please."

I hate that our dramatic moments happen during my lunch hour. They make the rest of my day move so slowly.

"What." Not really a question, because I don't really want to listen. I want to go inside where it's warm and I can take off this silly hat and scarf that Rube got me for Christmas.

A perplexed look crosses his face, and I think he doesn't know what to say. Yup, he doesn't know what to say. "I'm… I'm sorry. You should go to college. You're smart. You'd fit in, and you'd probably love it the second time around."

"I'll see you later, Mason."

I leave him with the leftovers of my sandwich out in the January cold.

I bring up the subject of going back to college with Rube a few days later at breakfast. He was eating his extra extra crispy bacon, looking pretty indifferent, and the others in the group were there as backup. I'd talked to them all about it individually, so I know they'd have my backs if Rube's against it.

"So, I've been doing some thinking about what I want to do with my life, now that I've settled into the Reaping thing and don't act up anymore." He puts the piece of bacon down and looks up from his plate with his scary face. "And I think I want to go back to college part-time to try and do something that I like with my non-Reaping time." Wow, I said that last part pretty fast.

Everyone else at the table is holding their breath, and they're just as surprised as I am when he smiles and picks back up the bacon. "I think that's a great idea, peanut." He chomps down on the food and finishes it before surprising us all even more. "You need help paying for it? I don't think there are Reaper scholarships available, but I'm sure I could look into it for ya."

Daisy, Mason, Roxy and I are all pretty stunned. We all expected the worst – yelling, anger, and the like. Granted, Rube and I have nearly always been at one another's throats, so I didn't expect him to agree to me wanting to spend even more time away from Reaping, but offering money?

"I have a little bit of money saved up over the past few years. I think I'll just go to a community college. I don't have test scores to help with scholarships, though." Everyone gives me a weird look. "Test scores? ACT? SAT? Standardized tests that determine in four hours how intelligent you are?" None of them had to deal with the stressful and oppressive tests to get into college. Rube and Daisy are way too old, Mason found drugs to be more satisfying than an education, and Roxy was a dancer, not a scholar. "Never mind. I probably don't even need them to get into a community college."

"Well I think you going back to college is a great idea. You're a smart girl and you should be in an environment where that intelligence can be nurtured and grown."

"Rube, you're really freaking me the fuck out." Seriously, he's acting all father-like. "But thanks." I smile to show I appreciate his thoughtfulness. It's really sweet of him to offer to pay, or find funding, for college.

"I think it's a great idea for Georgia to go to college and get a degree. Now, I haven't the slightest idea as to why anyone would pay to be bored to death, but I'm sure there are plenty of interesting and handsome men on college campuses now-a-days." Trademark Daisy.

Mason shifts beside me, and it's his way of telling me he doesn't like the idea of me dating someone else. Yeah, I can read that much into his little movements. Not because I'm attuned to him, but because I've been defending my interest in the living for the past two days.

Maybe he really does like me. It'd be nice to think that I've found a guy who really cares and who could love me. It'd be nice to think that the first cute guy I met after I died could be the person I'm meant to be with for the rest of my afterlife. It'd be nice to feel safe and secure.

But it's all a fantasy. I never believed in soul mates and I don't think I'll ever believe true love can exist. Real life, whether while alive or dead, has just screwed me too much too often for me to still believe in fairy tales like that.

So I drink my coffee and listen to the others talk about their beliefs on college and education, hear their thoughts on what I could major in, and log in quality hours with friends.


	4. Extra Pale

Title: Dizzy Up The Girl  
Author: Kaylinwish  
Characters: Mason/George  
Genres: Romance/Angst  
Rating: R  
Warnings: Language? No spoilers, I don't think.  
Summary: Growing up is hard enough, but growing up as a Grim Reaper is hellish. And being a new Reaper, George hasn't learned all the ropes and rules of dating while undead. People tend to date within their profession, and Reapers aren't much different.  
Archived: – I don't own Dead like me, else it never would've gone off the air. Unbeta'd – horrid, I know.  
Chapter 4 – Extra Pale

_How's your day? Did it go your way? _

_But You never ask about it, All the things I wish I'd be_

Goo Goo Dolls

I hate to say it, but I think I'm growing as a person. I created a goal for myself. I started on the path to accomplishing that goal. I even kinda want to do something with my life. The only explanation for my change of philosophy is that I'm growing. I still can't tell if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

Of course, I'm hoping it's good.

I enrolled in the community college near my house and started a few weeks back for just the quarter. I'm only getting, like, 7 credits or something - but anything to get closer to graduating. Jesus, already I'm wanting out.

The classes have been fairly easy, possibly because I'm pretty intelligent or probably because it's a fucking community college. Delores put me on a temporary leave of absence, but I think I can handle working at Happy Time _and_ college at this pace. I hope it doesn't get harder on me. That would be a shame.

Not much changed with the gang over the past few weeks. I still meet at Der Waffle Hause in the morning to get my reap, get shit from Rube for being in a class during my reap or for having to run across the city to get a few souls and miss a class or two. But I spend my day and part of my night on the campus. It's comforting to get to study in a library. It's like the books demand I concentrate and learn.

The upside of starting back at college is that Mason's no longer following me around. Downside is that I have to go back to buying my lunches and dinners. I'm concerned about the fact that I don't seem to have a best friend anymore, since he filled that role. Now I barely talk to him. He hardly even looks at me over breakfast.

Well, I'm sure he'll fix himself sooner or later and he'll go back to being the obsessed, drug-loving Mason that drools all over Daisy and finds trouble around every corner.

So here I sit in the library on a Friday night while everyone else on campus is getting piss drunk. My first paper was assigned and I want to get it out of the way. Besides, it's not like I do well at parties. Surrounded on all sides by people that I don't know and who wouldn't remember me in the morning after sobering up, eardrum bursting music, strong stench of beer and vomit and the gnawing knowledge that I'm not actually going to develop a relationship with any of the assholes piled into the particular house. Just doesn't sound like fun.

The library isn't half bad, anyway. It's not very big, but I've found a perch on a balcony on the second floor where I can sit at a table and watch people below. I've become a much bigger voyeur in my afterlife.

I've been more immersed in my thoughts about my friends than in my ideas for this paper. Who wants to write about Greek philosophers, anyway? They're dead. Dead and not still walking. So I put away my papers, books and pens. I should get some sleep. I have the weekend to work on this paper.

Of course, arriving home to Daisy hasn't improved. Ever since Mason admitted his feelings about me, she caught on and has tried to smell out a relationship. I think she's jealous of me taking Mason from her. It's not like it's my fault; the asshole just leeched onto me in a moment of self-pity. So she's tried being her normal peppy self, but I can tell she's unhappy underneath it all.

And she takes tonight to bring up the subject of Mason. After dropping my book bag near the entry she waltzes over, mentioning that Mason just left and if I wanted to see him I could probably catch him in the back.

Yeah, ok, so he's avoiding me. Runs out the back door when I pull up. Really damn childish, but it's Daisy talking to me about him that pisses me off.

"Georgia, what is going on with you two? He dotes all over you, follows you around like a sick puppy and you do nothing but scare him away. Are you really so uncaring that you can't drop it to him gently?"

My best response would be "Well, Daisy, I thought about leading him on for three years to make him think I just might possibly want to sleep with him and knowing that I still wouldn't lower myself to his standards after all that time, but I think you already pulled that on him. He might think I'm just trying to copy you."

But not even I am that bitchy or heartless. "I did drop it gently, Daisy. I told him I didn't feel anything more than sibling affection for him." I keep moving through the house, hanging up my jacket and getting some food from the kitchen. "Besides, he's back at your side spending all his time with you again anyway, so it's not like I broke him or something."

She's standing behind the door to the fridge, and it scares the shit out of me when I close the door. Her hands are on her hips in her 'Don't – mess – with – me' look. "Georgia, that boy is completely different. First of all he hasn't made a single move towards me." I think there's a bit of regret and sadness in her voice. "Second, he's been sober for quite some time now, I think to prove something to you. And third, he won't say a single thing to me about you two. Every time I mention you he freezes up and looks around, like you're going to sneak up on him or something."

Peanut butter and jelly sandwich – the dinner of a poor college student. "Daisy, I'm not in control of how he acts. Mason doesn't actually like me, he's just being a fucking idiot and trying to make things awkward. Not my fault."

She follows me up to my room. I really need a lock installed. "Listen to me, Georgia! As much as I miss him fawning all over me, and as much as I wish he was still making me the center of attention, I think his feelings about you are genuine. He gets a different look in his eye when you're around."

Her selfless confession is actually really sweet. It feels almost like she's forgiving me for stealing his attentions. But I didn't steal anything and I certainly don't want the attention. Although the look _is_ kind of sweet. And I do miss our talks and jibes.

I'm picking at my sandwich while sitting on my bed. Daisy won't leave until she gets what she wants, manipulative bitch. She's just staring at me, hands still on her hips and disappointment in her eyes. Why do I feel like she's my mother telling me that I have to get up and go to work? That it's, once again, time to go to my first day of work.

"If I tell you I'll go to his place and talk to him tonight will you stop giving me a look that reminds me of my mother when I did something she didn't like? I got it enough from her when I was alive, I don't need it from you now that I'm dead."

She smiles, a rather quick change from her glare. Damn, she played me. "Excellent. You'll leave right now, now won't you? I wouldn't want Mason to go another second thinking you hate him or something of that sort."

So I was just tricked by a dead actress. Fucking Jesus. I don't need drama, and she and Mason bring it in spades. I've never understood that expression. Spades are pretty small garden tools. Can't carry much on them. Ok, they bring drama in shitloads. That's much bigger.

I get off the bed and carry my half-eaten sandwich back to my car. Mason better fucking be at his place. If he ran off to some drug party or something, I'll fucking kill him. This is going to be a waste of a perfectly quiet night.

A few of his lights are on when I pull up. Guess he scurried home after escaping from my house after all. Yet he doesn't answer the door when I knock.

"Mason, I know you're in there. Open the damn door!"

Nothing.

"Mason!" More knocking, this time with the side of my fists. "Mason, open your fucking door before I pick the lock and come in anyway, you pathetic fucking child!"

That got him to open the door. His TV is playing, and his clothing is completely rumpled and stained. He probably hasn't changed in a few days. He definitely hasn't shaved in at least a week; his stubble is longer and messier than usual. "Mason, you look like shit."

His response is a silent 'what the fuck do you want'.

"What, not going to invite me in?" He opens the door a little more and I walk by. At least he doesn't smell horrid. "Are you giving me the silent treatment? What, are we seven again?!"

He finally opens his mouth, "I'm not giving you the fucking silent treatment, I just don't have anything to say to you." He accents his response with a slamming of the door.

"What? I start classes and suddenly we have nothing in common? No reason to talk? Can't hang out or see one another? Did you really think Daisy wasn't going to say anything about you climbing out the back to escape from me tonight?"

"I didn't climb out of the fucking window, I opened the door." I knew that, but it's a funnier visual to see him jumping out the window with his skinny body.

"Whatever. Mason, you have no reason to avoid me!"

He just stares at me. The look he gave me when he finally realized that I could be a potential lover is there, mixed with a pretty intense sadness. I've never been one to over romanticize 'looks' or tell a person's inner thoughts by their eyes, but I can tell Mason's looks. He has a small variety, and he's pretty animated with his eyebrows. Like a cartoon character.

"What, Mason? Why are you looking at me like that?" He doesn't respond, and now I'm feeling awkward and guilty. "Seriously, stop. I feel like I killed your puppy or something."

He leaves the living room and goes towards his bedroom, and I follow for no other reason than I'm not going to let him escape without explaining his weird avoidance. "I'm not looking at you any differently than before. I love you, and you completely tuned me down, and now I'm trying to get over it." He pulls a shirt out of a dresser and starts changing while I stand in his doorway. Pulls off his two shirts, puts on the single new one, and as soon as his head is through the hole, looks at me and continues. "I'm avoiding you so I can try to forget how I feel about you. This isn't like how I acted about Daisy. No matter how much you say it or how much you feel it, I really am in love with you. You were a friend and a sister to me, there for me when I fucked up and overdosed and got drunk off my ass. I feel more for you than I 'ave anyone, ever." He doesn't approach me, and I feel out of place. I shouldn't have bothered coming over.

"I shouldn't have come over. I'm sorry." I turn around and head back to the entrance. He follows me, as I knew he would. "I just wanted to know why you wouldn't talk to me, and you're completely full of bullshit, so now that I know I can go home and go to sleep. I'm tired and spent too long studying tonight. I don't want to go through this again, I just want my best friend back." Safely at the door. I start to open it, but he holds it closed with one hand and spins me around with the other. I feel like I'm in some romance novel, or at least a trashy soap opera. I'm pinned against the door with a guy leaning over me and staring at me like he wouldn't mind completely ravishing me. I really should stop reading those sex novels in the library.

"I'm not full of bullshit, Georgie-girl. I'm not lying and I'm not doing this just to get laid. I am actually in love with you. Not like a brother. At one point you were my older sister, but now you're more. I don't know why or how or , you know, where, but I fell in love with you and dinn't realize it and even took it a li'l bi' for granted. But now I'm trying to ge' over it and over you, all without trying to tell you and bother you with it. I know you're busy and uncaring and cold. So I'm trying to get over this by myself. Thanks for caring enough to come over after being pushed by Daisy to do so."

He's really close, and didn't back away during his speech. His breath smells slightly of alcohol – rum, I think. I guess his sober streak stopped. But this close I can see his eyes shining. If there was a bit more light by the door I could probably see the different colors in his eyes. Oh well, my life isn't some novel and I'm not a character in a drama. Sometimes those pathetic clichés just don't work.

I don't know what to say to him, though. He's tearing up again, and I think I might be crying. I can't see him as clearly, so it has to be tears blurring my vision. Shit. How could he affect me like that?

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I brush my tears with my sleeve and he leans back. "I'm just… I'm sorry." I slip out the door and get back into my car. Too much stress and emotion. I've overworked myself for nearly a month, and getting into a tearful, emotional fight with a guy who likes me just doesn't help the stress.

When I was alive and in college, I think I went to a grand total of 6 parties. Four frat parties, one dorm party, and one apartment party. I could never really tell a difference, only knowing that the apartment party meant I had to walk off campus with a group of drunkards I hardly knew and who probably didn't know me.

So when a girl in my civ class invited me to a party she was throwing on Friday after a midterm, I agreed. I'm older, wiser, and incredibly stressed. After class at the end of the week, I go straight home. There's no point in studying if I'm trying to relax tonight. Daisy's gone – probably at a reap. Mine's in a few hours at the park, and it gives me just enough time to nap. I open my day planner and put it on the coffee table along with my cell phone, checking again for the time of my reap and then setting my alarm clock. Then it's nice, silent nap time to prepare for a night of drinking with strangers.

I feel like I'd only just fallen asleep when I wake up to the ringing of my phone. Angry that I actually have to move, I blindly hit the coffee table to try and silence it. I only succeed in hurting my palm. Damn alarm clock.

After a quick change into more party-acceptable clothing, I head over to the park and look around for my soul. J. Leiberman is scheduled to die at 7:37, and it's already getting dark out. The park is pretty scarce at this time of night, since it starts to get dark and a city park isn't the best place to be after the sun sets. J-something is probably going to be murdered. Good thing I brought an extra shirt in my car.

I hear the sounds of quick foot falls, probably a runner. It's a woman, and she's heading towards me on the stone path, headphones in her ears and an ipod in her hand. I wave her down to get her to stop, and she gives me a weird look as she pulls an earpiece out of its place. "Yeah?"

"Hi, my name's Georgia and I'm really lost. I'm looking for my dog, JD, and now it's getting dark and I don't know my way around this park. Have you seen a golden retriever wandering around?"

Her expression changes and I know I struck some memory. "Oh, I'm so sorry. No, I haven't seen a dog anywhere."

"Oh… can you point me towards the main gates to the park? Maybe he headed home."

"Just take this path straight back," she replies, turning around and pointing.

"Thanks…" I hold my hand out, leaving room for her to introduce herself.

"Jessie."

I'll take it, and I take her soul as I shake her hand. I don't have time to confirm a last name. She moves on towards a dark grove of trees. I hear a struggle, a scream, and the sound of a knife plunging through flesh, bone and organs. And then Jessie's standing next to me, ipod still in her hand.

"What…."

"C'mon, let's walk and talk." I put an arm around her shoulder since she's not much taller than me and head towards the park entrance. It doesn't take much to get her to cross over – a quick 'you were just murdered' and 'you can move on if you're ready', and then she's running towards lights resembling a house. I move on, too. To my car, and then to the party.

My friend, who's name I can't even remember, gives me a quick hug and hands me a drink of some sort, telling me it's a vodka mix and that I should wander around her place to meet other people. There's a few kids from my psych class making out in the living room. I'm gonna need a few shots if I'm going to enjoy watching that all night long.

A few hours later I was pretty much trashed. More people came, and some girl goaded me into taking double shots with her, which I did. Then I took some with guys that I didn't know. It took even more shots to affect me and my undead alcohol tolerance, but then I was drunk and pretty happy. I don't know what it is about alcohol that makes me feel so relaxed and floaty, but I always forget how wonderful it is.

The music is overwhelming me, making me dance along with more strangers and helping me not care when a guy puts a hand around my waist and lets me sway against him. I look up and don't recognize the guy. I can feel Mason's presence, so I'm surprised it's not him. At least, I figure it's Mason I feel. It's defiantly a reaper. I smile at my dance partner and leave the living room, walking around the large apartment and head upstairs.

If I was sober, I think finding what I did would've made me pretty mad, or at least shocked and a little angered. But when I turn the corner into a hallway to find Mason practically sucking a girl's face off as he pressed her against a wall, I'm pretty mellow and apathetic about it. He said he was trying to move on, and it had been a few weeks since our last clash.

He sees me out of the corner of his eye, and pulls back to look at me. But I'm gone before he can say anything. I go back to the dance floor, find the guy who was grinding me before and go back to dancing with him, not as an act of revenge or anything. Mason and I were never together. I told him I didn't like him the way he wanted me to. I just feel like dancing.

But I try not to see him making out with that girl. That short girl with long dark blonde hair who could be considered a replacement for me. Or that I might not really want him to move on. Am I jealous? No way. Do I actually like Mason and only try to suppress the feelings? No way. But I'm feeling something, even if the alcohol is keeping me from figuring out what exactly it is.

Dancing doesn't make me feel any better, so I leave and walk to my car, climbing into the back seat and sleeping off the alcohol. I can drive home when I wake up.

Except I wake up in my bedroom in the morning, still wearing my jeans and top from the party. Did I fall asleep getting ready? The party feels like a surreal dream mixed with the after effects of a startling nightmare.

My only thoughts are on Mason. I can see him and that girl going at it in the dark hallway, and I can imagine him finding me in my car and driving me back home. He'd care enough to carry me up here and tuck me in, then walk back to his home. No matter what we say, we can't seem to believe the words. We're both lying to each other, trying to change things like feelings. He's going to keep liking (loving?) me, no matter who he makes out with or how much he tries to avoid me. And I'm going to keep denying any return feelings. But sitting in my bed with the morning light streaming in through my thin curtains, I think I'm changing again. I think I might just love him, too.


	5. Amigone

Title: Dizzy Up The Girl  
Author: kaylinwish  
Characters: Mason/George  
Rating: R   
Summary: Growing up is hard enough, but growing up as a Grim Reaper is hellish. And being a new Reaper, George hasn't learned all the ropes and rules of dating while undead. People tend to date within their profession, and Reapers aren't much different.  
A/N – I don't own Dead like me, else it never would've gone off the air. Unbeta'd – horrid, I know. Sorry for the terribly long wait for this chapter. My muse abandoned me on the side of 'Veronica Mars' and 'Bones', and then I found a 'Buffy' fic I abandoned myself, and, well, things just escalate.

Chapter 5 – Amigone

_I'm not sayin' that there's something wrong with you. It's wrong with me as well_

"_Amigone" – The Goo Goo Dolls_

I've found that time flies when I put all my focus on school and all things related to it. Classes, studying and partying staged a coupe and took over my life. Classes are finishing up for the quarter – semester for those 'normal' college kids – and Mandy, a new friend who always seems to be overly happy about sitting in an hour long lecture about the history of European dominance, demanded I join her in attending a 'school's out' party. I happily obliged, and now I just have to get through my few finals.

I think Rube knows something's up. He keeps asking me how I'm doing. I figure it's just him trying to act the part of the father figure. Roxy's been trying to get me to talk to her about classes and boys. I think Daisy told them about Mason and me, or the lack thereof. Rube's been glaring more than usual at Mason, and he's stopped snapping at me when I whine about a reap interrupting a class. I've tried to avoid Der Waffle Haus at night when I'm hungry for dinner but not feeling up to going home, but Rube or Roxy find me when I try other diners or restaurants. I think Roxy put a tracking device in my car.

There was a time when I was little that I daydreamed about having Brady Bunch parents – a mother and father who did everything they could to make their children's' lives better and easier. They'd eavesdrop on conversations and ask the other kids about the others, and they always knew what was going on (well, almost always). And I wondered if my parents would ever be like that. All parents are nosey and want to know how their children are acting when they're not around, but the Brady parents always had the best of intentions. I think Rube and Roxy are my Brady parents. Rube chipped in to pay some of my tuition, claiming it was a west coast Reaper scholarship – "And don't ask me any questions about it, peanut". Roxy keeps asking about my personal life – "Daisy says you got yourself a guy now, George. You gonna introduce the guy to us sometime?". I think I dignified that question with a 'What the fuck, gimme a break' face.

I even think I saw Rube on campus a few weeks ago. And there is no reason that I can think of for him to be at a community college in the middle of the day. He could have been checking up on me or talking to a professor about me. Probably checking up on his investment.

And then there's Mason. He's still avoiding me like the plague - except at parties. I've been to thirteen parties now – Thursday's the new Friday – and he's been at ten of them. I'm not in a stats class, but that's pretty unbelievable to be coincidence. And he's always with a new girl, either drunkenly dancing with her, making out with her in a corner, or pulling her into a dark room for sex. I don't like to imagine what goes on in there. I think he's trying to make me jealous. Maybe it's working. I can't tell. I see him kissing someone else and feel pretty apathetic about it. He's got to get all those emotions he was feeling out somehow. Or else he'll just be a big bag of tears. Which is weird, cause he never really cried when he liked Daisy. Maybe I bring out the inner woman in him.

Before Post-Its are handed out in the mornings I get looks from everyone at the table. Mason's stare is pretty empty and devoid of all emotion. Roxy's is of intrigue and interest; she probably sees me as living out her dream or something. Daisy always glances between Mason and me, like we're playing tennis, before settling on me with disappointment in her eyes. But Rube gives me a 'I know how you're spending your nights – at unnecessary parties and drinking copious amounts of alcohol to try and ignore the fact that you just might like the guy that you pushed away' look. I know these people's facial expressions, even if I can't read strangers' faces.

I'm getting silent crap from my friends, and verbal crap from my teachers – who like to be called professor but don't have degrees to back up the forced respect. College is really as bad as I remember it. Not difficult at all - maybe it's too easy and I should look into the advanced classes - but just redundant. I'm not interested in listening to some old man or woman droning on and on about topics I could easily learn about by reading a book. Lo and behold, there are books assigned for each class, nearly always negating the need to attend said class.

My status with Mason changes only when we're the first to get to Der Waffle Haus on a Saturday morning. No classes for me, and he's still hung over from the night before. I saw him at a party I went to, going at it with a leggy blonde slut bag in the upstairs hall. Ok, so I might be a little jealous.

He sees me as soon as I walk in, so I can't just turn around and walk out. I walk over to the table and slide into the opposite booth fully prepared to sit in silence until the others arrive. Kiffany walks over with a coffee, and I thank her for her sixth sense about my need for coffee this early in the morning.

But as soon as I take my first sip, Mason starts mumbling. I can't understand a word he's saying; I think he's still drunk from last night. Or maybe he made his coffee Irish with the flask that I know is in his coat pocket. He keeps slurring, getting a little louder when he sees my confused look on my face. I'm not that discreet with my facial expressions, which is a similarity with Mason that I should work on changing.

"I s'ill can' ge' you ou' of m'head, no ma'er 'ow ma'y girls I try 'placing you with."

His accent combined with his drunkenness is pretty hard to decipher, and I haven't heard him really talk in a while. Maybe I missed the sound of his voice, slurred or not.

"That's awfully sweet of you, Mason." I force a smile and pat his hand across the table. In reality I think it's total bullshit that he's kissing, and probably fucking, all those girls just to try and get over me. And a quiet voice in the back of my head tries to make me think that if he really 'loved' me he would've tried harder to get me or convince me I loved him, too. I tell the voice to shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down; it's not allowed at the big kid's table anymore.

He looks down at where I touched his hand and gets his pouty lips out. "I really thin' I fucked th's one up."

"What are you talking about?" If he was actually interested in his latest girl I just might get up and leave out of frustration.

"Our… fr'ensh'p." He looks up at me under his eyebrows. Poor guy looks more pathetic than I've seen him in a while.

"Yeah, Mason. I think you really fucked it up." He looks back down at the table before I get the chance to continue, but I keep going anyway. "But I think we'll be ok if you stop being so damn childish about everything. I think if you would just go back to hanging out with me we'd be cool again." It's like saying the word 'treat' around a dog. He immediately perks up and gets almost hyper in his booth.

And before either of us can say or do anything further, the rest of the group shows up and starts talking.

In an attempt to make some sort of income while in college, I've started working at the campus library. Rube helped me get papers to let me do some sort of work-study program. I'm making over minimum wage, and I work nearly every day for at least five hours. The money covers food and utilities, not much extra for clothes or entertainment. Saturdays I work at least eight hours, even more if they let me or forget that I'm here. My reap today is, thankfully, in the late evening. I can shelve books and study in silence, with the exception of the squeaking wheel on my book cart that makes me the center of attention in the stacks. But the silence, or squeaking, is only helping my mind to wander over to thoughts of Mason. He planted an idea into my head months ago and let it just grow. I've done pretty well not thinking about it, but then he goes and apologizes and I'm back to wondering if I should do something.

I think Mason and I would make a pretty destructive couple if we ever did date. I mean, I'm probably still some whiny girl wishing she'd never died, and he's still a post-pubescent teenage boy trying to get as much sex, drugs and alcohol into his system without dying again. We've both got serious issues that we'll probably never get over. But we've come to grow beyond that in our friendship. Sure, I still see him as the drug dealing, money stealing, alcoholic that he is. I don't really get a choice on whether or not I get to like him, since he's one of the only four people who really understand my predicament of being dead and a grim reaper.

I'm thinking too much about the possibilities of a relationship that is never going to happen. I'm done with the shelving for now, until some ridiculously overzealous student decides to return twenty books at once. So it's back to the front desk for staring off into space time.

But yet, the idea festers. Just sits there in the back of my mind like a rolled up wad of paper that missed the trash can and I'm too lazy to bother picking up and throwing away.

What the hell is wrong with me? Just remember Mason in hot pants. Remember his drug addiction. Remember anything that would remind you of how not-good it would be to try anything with him.

Ok, hormonal relapse avoided. Except now I'm imagining his voice whispering my name. No, I'm not making it up in my head. He's standing in front of the front desk while I'm staring at the computer screen to the side.

"George!" His whisper is louder, receiving looks from some of the nearby students.

"Mason, what the hell are you doing here?"

"There's a party tonight. Are you goin'?"

"There are a couple dozen parties tonight, Mason. I'll probably be going to at least one of them, yes."

He gets a nervous look on his face. Completely not like him to get nervous. "Wanna go together? I need someone to keep me from gettin' frisky with the girls."

Great. I get to be his walking, talking conscious. "Only if you'll be the designated driver so I can drink."

" 'Course, Georgie." His smile is a little too leering for me to feel actually comfortable with his response. But whatever.

"I'll be off at seven. Be at my place at eight and we can go to whatever parties you were thinking of."

Mason drives us to the party in my car, and I notice it's the same address as my post-it. This party's going to end well.

The reap doesn't occur till near midnight, and I tell Mason about it so he can keep an eye out for K. Greene. "If I find 'er, does tha' mean I ge' to drink?"

"No. If you find her it means you're a better reaper than me. What happened to you being sober? Daisy was bragging about your will power or whatever, and then you're right back to drinking."

"I was doin' it to prove to you tha' I'm not an alcoholic. But since you didn't give a shi' about what I did t' prove my love for you, I stopped. Alcohol helped me forge'."

"That's… sweet." I didn't know it was possible to be touched by an action yet equally disgusted by it, but here I am, standing on a front porch of a stranger's house thinking the guy with me tonight is a terribly hopeless romantic and a grossly ill addict.

Sure as hell makes him interesting, if nothing else.

Mason, with his powers of charm and English accent, found a Kelsey Greene nearly as soon as we walked into the house. I wanted to just reap her before I started to drink and possibly forget about my after-life's purpose, but then a Kellen Greene introduced himself to me while handing me a drink.

Shit.

The first thing I can think to do is pull Mason into an empty room and explain the problem. "I only have one post-it, Mason, and there are two K. Greene's!"

He pokes his head back out to the living room. "I guess you should reap whoever's doin' the more dangerous shit. Kellen's sellin' some x, maybe he's gettin' high off it and dyin'."

"But Kelsey is starting to get really drunk. She could easily get alcohol poisoning and die right here!" Even as I'm talking I'm pulling out my cell phone and calling Rube. Evil bastard put me in this situation.

He answers after one ring. "What is it, peanut?"

Mason leans against the door to keep people from coming in. "Rube, you ass! There are two K. Greene's here!"

"I'm sorry, didn't I specify that you're supposed to find these things out for yourself?" He hangs up before I can get out a decent obscenity.

"I swear I'm going to find out just how much he knows before I reach my quota." I close my phone and put it away. The only thing left to do is not get drunk, which severely ruins my plans for the night, and watch both Kellen and Kelsey until the time of death gets closer.

So we split up. Mason goes with Kellen, probably gets some ecstasy from him since he's giggling a lot across the room. Meanwhile, I'm forced to hang around Kelsey, who is nearly passed out in a chair. I'm not gonna lie, I've been drinking and feel tempted to just reap her and get started on the heavy duty liquor. The ratio of body mass to alcohol intake is one to two, and if she's not dead in five minutes, then she'll be vomiting all over the guy trying to grope her.

Mason finds me two minutes before the death, and we're still no closer to finding out which K. Greene is going to die. And now I'm down a set of eyes, since Mason's now collapsed in a chair staring at a wall. How interesting.

Ironically, I'm saved from my confusion by Kelsey starting her descent toward death. The guy kneeling in front of her gets a face full of her vomit before her head jerks back and she starts shaking. I glance back at Kellen, still playing spin the bottle or some other game about making out.

As a few people start trying to help her out, I reach out a hand and brush her shoulder, then grab Mason and pull him out of the party.

"You suck at being the designated driver," I tell him as I drag his drugged ass back to my car to leave before the authorities show up. My desire to party has been crushed by the post-reap depression I nearly always suffer from.

"'S not my fault, he gave them t' me for free," he slurs, wrapping an arm around my waist and squeezing the side his hand is around.

Oh, he is so dead.

"George, I really don't know what I'd do without you." His voice is nearly incoherent with the sounds of sirens growing louder and the music still pounding from the house. Kelsey's soul appears on the lawns of her parent's home, and I yell at her to come join us near the car. Mason gives me a kiss on the cheek before climbing into the back and letting Kelsey take the front seat.

"What's going on?" she asks, looking back at the party where the music suddenly stopped.

"You died," I reply, starting the car and driving off the street. "D'ya think you'll be ready to cross over to the other side any time soon? I'm tired."

Her look of confusion makes me groan. I explain to her while driving back towards Mason's about death and grim reapers and how it'll be clear when she accepts that she died and moves on to the other side. By the time I'm parked outside his place, she's getting into a blue car driving into a road of lights.

Mason climbs out of the car after she leaves, and I get out to help him get safely inside the apartment, else he'll just pass out in front of the door again and rouse suspicion.

Mason never really locks his door when he leaves, and since he doesn't really have belongings besides his pile of clothes, I guess it's not a huge problem. Still, freaks me out walking into his place. I'm a little less concerned with strangers being in his place than I am with him seriously getting touchy-feely with me. I put up with it just to get him to get inside, the arms around my waist and walking with his chest against my back, rubbing the bit of skin exposed under my shirt, and resting his head on top of mine. Actions I will kill him for in the morning, but right now I just want to get him out of my hair. So I walk him into his place and try to pull out of his hold to leave, but the drugged bastard just tightens his arms.

"You're not thinkin' of leavin' now, are ya Georgie?"

"Mason, if you finish that with 'cause the party was just gettin' started', I swear I will cut off whatever you're thinking with. And growing that back will be as painful as it is to take off. "

He loosens his grip and spins around me, giving me his I'm-so-high-I'm-flying smile. "I jus' wanted to give you a proper 'thank you', you know, for drivin' me and all."

I relax a bit, thankful he's not thinking about raping me or something equally horrendous. But then he's kissing me.

He's soft and sweet about it, not forcing me to do anything but sending me into shock. He just keeps going while I try to figure out just what the hell is going on. Ok, one of his hands is still around my back, but the other is at the back of my head gently moving it around to get a better position from his height. I'm feeling every little touch and movement, and I think I might be flying right along with him.

But it's all too much and too wrong and too right to continue, and I come to my senses. I pull back and push him back.

"Mason, please don't make me hurt you again." I'm whispering words before I can even form them in my head, and then I'm out the door and back in my car. I didn't even see the look on his face.

This is getting to be too much.


	6. Bullet Proof

Title: Dizzy Up The Girl  
Author: kaylinwish  
Characters: Mason/George  
Rating: R   
Summary: Growing up is hard enough, but growing up as a Grim Reaper is hellish. And being a new Reaper, George hasn't learned all the ropes and rules of dating while undead. People tend to date within their profession, and Reapers aren't much different.  
A/N – I don't own Dead like me, else it never would've gone off the air. Unbeta'd – So very sorry for the long wait. My harddrive crashed, so I lost the WIP chapter. Then I just stopped writing. But all the reviews on really reminded me to finish this thing. So here's another installment!

Chapter 6: Bullet Proof

_Should have listened when you called my name. _

I relive the moment whenever my mind strays. I've tried focusing on work or exams, but everything comes back to the kiss.

I haven't been kissed like that in two years. Even then, this one bests any others. And he doesn't seem to remember a thing.

The ass just walked into Der Waffle Haus the next morning, sat down and started eating Daisy's bacon. He gave me his usual smile and started up a conversation with Daisy about the weather. He was back to flirting with her, giving her his shifty smile and staring into her eyes. She noticed it, too, which just made us all revert to two years ago. Mason ended up sprawled out on the floor with Daisy's coffee burning his face while Roxy stepped over him to sit next to me; Rube ignored the incident completely.

The past few weeks have been more of the same. Not that I'm not completely and unconditionally pleased that my wish has come true. Really. I'm glad it's finally done. With all the attention focused on me, Daisy was going to have to resort to bank robbery in order to be noticed, or at least having some sexual exploit with a high ranking official, and none of us want that.

So if I'm so delighted that he's no longer attracted to me, why do I feel so hollow? Sure, I grew a little accustomed to the flirting and ego trip that he subconsciously put me on, but now I feel so small. I blame him, but I think it's safe to just keep quiet. He might not even remember kissing me, what with all the drugs and booze going through his body at the time.

As usual, Rube immediately knew something was wrong. Roxy shared his uncanny ability to sense change. It was fairly obvious this time, though. They appear on my front doorstep – strange, since they only visited sporadically – and sit me down at the dinning room table.

"Ok, peanut, what is going on?"

I give him my best confused look, but he never falls for it. He just returns it with his intimidating and down right frightening stare. "Mason kissed me a few weeks ago while high, I stopped it and left, and now he's back to obsessing over Daisy. That's all from my side."

They shar a glance, still standing over me like giants. "Does he know he did that?" Roxy asks. I'm not sure why they are so incredibly nosey suddenly, but since the equilibrium of the group is off, I guess they need to do some sort of adjusting.

I just shrug.

Roxy crosses her arms and glares down at me. "George, his going back to Daisy is obvious. But you're taking this pretty hard. You're not talking or eating at breakfast. Your normal frown looks even worse. You're upset."

"I am not! I just got used to him bothering me, so now that he's not I don't know how to go back to normal. Or whatever 'normal' is for me." I lean back and cross my arms. If they could just leave so I could mope on my own that would be fantastic.

"Peanut, we just don't like him getting to you like this. That's why we didn't like the idea of you two in the first place. There's all sorts of trouble when you get involved with a fuck-up like him, and even if you didn't mean to, you did." Rube gives me a pat on the shoulder and then walks out, Roxy following behind him.

I hate random interventions.

So I go back to the TV and return to watching reruns of Happy Days.

I get the day off a few days later. Anniversary of my death and all. So I get to spend a full day at Happy Time. A very fantastic vacation from reaping. Mason appears at my cubical when I pull out my sandwich for lunch..

"C'mon, George, let's go get something. It's your day off and all."

I take a deliberate bite of my sandwich and chew it as he looks down at me, stupid grin plastered on his face. "I brought my lunch today." Stating the obvious should make him leave, so I turn back to my computer and start playing Tetris. But he's spinning me back around a second later.

"I'm buying."

I'm in. I toss my chicken salad sandwich in the trash and follow him to the elevator. He starts explaining the importance of being with someone on a death day, especially as recent as it was. And then we're out of the stuffy elevator and he's asking me what I planned to do when I got off of work. I shrug and say something about going home and watching TV.

"That's not right at all, George. I'll come get you and we can visit your grave."

Thankfully there aren't many people around us, so stopping on the sidewalk isn't going to cause any major traffic jams. He realizes I'm no longer following and turns back to me. "Wha? What's wrong?"

He makes his way back to where I'm standing with an even bigger 'confused' look than usual on his face. "What'd I say?"

I want to just yell and scream at him. Why'd he pretend to be interested in me? Why'd he go to all the parties I was at? Why'd he sober up then so quickly return to liquor and drugs? Was this past year a complete lie? What was the point?

His brain would probably explode from all the questions, so I shake my head and keep following him.

"Do you not want ta visit your grave?"

"No, Mason. I'm fine with visiting my grave."

"Then why are you so angry all'a sudden?"

Okay, so I'm not one to be subtle about my emotions. I'm pissed at him. And it probably is going to stay that way for at least the foreseeable future. "It's everything. Just everything. Let's just get lunch and I can go back to work."

He takes me to some all-American restaurant and gets us burgers and fries. I don't really talk to him at all; he's dominating the conversation enough discussing the benefits of listening to music live rather than over a recording. The music playing in the background is apparently bothering him.

It took too long for me to return to my desk. I'm back early, but the time spent with Mason was just too much. I spend the rest of the day just going over every event since he decided to devote all attention to me. And, I still can't believe this, but I think I made a huge mistake. Because I don't know how to stop loving him.

He's back at quitting time. He has my coat and is helping me into it without saying a word. We walk to my car and drive to the cemetery, and I just hope my sister and mom aren't there. I don't need any more emotional baggage at the moment.

But, since whatever high being is up there doesn't seem to want me to get my way, my mom and sister are both standing at my gravestone as Mason and I walk up the hill. Reggie's grown a lot, which stabs at me and makes me sob for the first time in ages. Mason immediately notices both my family and my tears, and he quickly pulls us behind a grove of trees, tucking me into his chest. He's whispering to me, but all I can think of is how much I've missed. My little sister is going through the hardest parts of life: high school. I'm not there to help her. And I feel like I've failed her.

Mom and Reg are gone when I finally stop crying. He wipes away any tears left on my face with his palms and gives me his 'are you ok?' look. I just nod and walk to my gravestone. They've left me white lilies. I guess that's the flower you leave for the dead.

I wonder if I should have brought some flowers.

Mason hands me his flask, and I eagerly take a shot of the whisky living inside it. It burns, but it keeps me from thinking about things like flowers and family. We get nice and drunk at my grave as we watch the sun set, though I feel like I'm the one who's drunk. It takes much more than the liquor in that flask to get Mason tipsy.

Regardless, I can't seem to stand up, so I sit down and stare up at him in silence, until he looks at me and asks what was wrong.

"What the fuck, Mason?" Ok, so I probably need to actually tell him what's wrong, because that wasn't at all informative. "You can't just spend months bothering me about dating you and then suddenly _stop_ being interested and expect everything to be fine! It's not! I'm fucking confused and a little pissed, and you're just being Mason and not noticing anything." I hope my words are understandable, because they are when in my head.

And then he has a cocky smile and crouches down to my eye level. "So li'l Georgie liked the attention?"

"Of course I did, you fucking moron. Any girl does. That's why Daisy was so pissed when you stopped fawning over her. And this just leaves me all confused, because we kissed and then suddenly you don't have any interest in me.

"I know I haven't kissed a whole lot of guys, but I didn't think I was bad enough to really push someone away." I can't look at him, mostly because keeping my head at an upward tilt is making me feel sick. "And I was starting to think things and all."

He gets closer, finding a way to look me in the eyes. "What things were you thinking, Georgia?" He's got a glint in his eye that would make me immediately shut up if I was sober. But I'm far from that.

"Things. That maybe you actually did love me. That maybe I felt the same. Maybe the others would be fine with a relationship between us if they see me happy. All rubbish." Oh, I had too much to drink. I'm feeling really queasy, and I'm as close to the ground as I can get.

"You've been around me too long, George. You're picking up my words." He's even closer now, practically laying on top of me. "And I don't remember any 'kiss', although you couldn't possibly scare me away that way."

"Then why'd you go back to Daisy the next day?"

"I had decided that you didn't feel anything for me and it was hurting our friendship. I didn't want to lose you."

He's hovering over me, like he about to start something. But I'm on the verge of either vomiting or passing out; I just wish all that could wait, cause he's staring at me with such intensity that I think I might catch fire right there.

I don't remember passing out or him carrying me back to my car. I don't remember how he carried me into my house or stayed with me till I sobered up. But I do remember pulling him into my bed and using him as a pillow. And I remember him kissing me goodnight. And when I woke up in the morning, I couldn't find him.


	7. All Eyes On Me

7- All Eyes on me - And all that you knew slips away

Title: Dizzy Up The Girl

Author: obiwankatie

Characters: Mason/George

Rating: R

Summary: Growing up is hard enough, but growing up as a Grim Reaper is hellish. And being a new Reaper, George hasn't learned all the ropes and rules of dating while undead. People tend to date within their profession, and Reapers aren't much different.

A/N – I don't own Dead like me, else it never would've gone off the air. Unbeta'd

The reviews are what reminded me of this. I'm sorry I dropped off the face of the planet and stopped posting. I guess I grew unpleased with the story. A few reviews critiquing the fic drove me crazy, partially because I can't take criticism, partially because there are so few fic in the fandom to begin with, and partially because I'm a freaking wimp. And then when asking a friend of I should do one thing and she said to do another, I took her advice and wrote myself into a corner. Oh, and then I found a passion at school that I drove right into and it consumed me for two years. That, and I got into Star Trek. Excuses, excuses. I'm still here, I'm reworking my plot outline, and I'll be posting more. Promise. Hopefully soon, not in another two years. But I am a busy girl, so don't expect anything tomorrow!

Chapter 7 – All Eyes On Me

_And all that you knew slips away_

Really, I blame myself. I was warned by Roxy and Rube. I could visibly see how easily he moved from one girl to another. And then there was my brain screaming at me as to how wrong the very idea of being with him was. Of course he wouldn't stay a whole night with me. That would be just too kind.

So I get up and shower before heading over to Der Waffle Haus.

Daisy's downstairs waiting for me as though I should have moved slightly faster when getting dressed. She says nothing, just stares at me as I grab my coat and keys. Maybe she can read my anger, though she seems a little pissed herself. I hate it when she gets like this.

We get into the car and drive in silence. I know it sounds selfish, but can't I be the one upset right now?

Whatever.

After I ask Kiffany for some toast and scrambled eggs, Rube hands out our post-its. "What about Mason?"

"Called him in for a reap at five. Should be back by now, but it's Mason. I've learned to expect nothing from him."

"You called him on his cell?"

"Yes, that's normally how it's done."

"Oh." So that's why he was gone.

"Why are you so interested in his whereabouts?" Roxy asks, turning to look down at me from my left shoulder.

"Just wanted to know if he was going to do his job today, too. If I have to reap, I want him to, too."

"Well he is, so go back to not caring."

"Done and done." I sit back and wait for my breakfast.

Mason stumbles in as I finish up with breakfast. The others filter out, but I wait with him while he orders his food.

"I got called by Rube. Early mornin' reap."

"I know. You could've woken me."

"You don't sleep much."

He's got a point.

"Well, could you wake me next time? You were gone and I thought you left me…"

"George…" He moves from across the booth to sit next to me. "Georgia, I am not leaving you."

"But it feels like you will."

He takes my hands, as if he's trying to reassure me with physical contact.

"Georgia, I am not lying to you. I want to be with you. Haven't I proved that well enough?"

Strange thing was, he wasn't completely wrong.

Summer school is a known buzz kill, but juggling classes, a part time job, and full time reaping is nearly fucking impossible. So when Rube gave us all a pile of post-its a week later at breakfast, I was the first to groan.

"Group reap today. Except Daisy. You're getting everyone not at our location." Rube handed her five yellow sheets. Nothing, compared to my twenty.

"Rube, what the fuck is going down?" Roxy was flipping through her notes, trying to solve the crime before the rest of us.

"Looks like an accident on the Ferry," Mason replied, going though his own.

"Mason, sometimes you surprise me." Rube's face was equally shocked. "However, I don't have the details. Just gotta be on that Ferry. So, this breakfast is to go."

We leave our money for Kiffany and move out. Rather than risk losing my car on the doomed ferry ride, I park it. The four of us walk down to the docks nearly in synch. Like a fucking gang. A gang you really don't want to fuck with. When you hit us, we don't hit back. We just take your soul.

We should get jackets.

Rube gets us on. And then the game begins. We all have twenty minutes to find our reaps before the first death. Thankfully, Rube's included a few extra notes on the post-its. Like age and gender. Sometimes he's a nice guy.

He also warned us on the ride over that we simply won't get everyone. Some will have to be reaped post-death. Traumatic and sad, but you can't win all the time.

So we do our best. I find Mason before the collision with another boat and hold on tight. I'm knocked out, and he must have been, too, cause we wake up to speakers shouting that the boat was heading to the docks. Mason has a pole sticking out through his shoulder, and I've got some blood on my forehead. I pull the pole out and it heals before anyone notices.

When the boat reaches land, people pile out. A whole fleet to ambulances and EMTs are waiting to try and save everyone. I try not to look at them as they run past me. I have ten more left, Mason only has five. Roxy was on another section of the boat, as was Rube, so I have no idea how well they did.

I give Mason a quick kiss and get back to work. I work my way through the boat and find the dead. If they match the description, they get pulled. That leaves me with five more. Their times are slightly later. People are already being brought out to a makeshift hospital on the docks. I have to get past the cops to get to those reaps. I find Roxy and follow her into the trauma unit.

I hang around after pulling all my souls. Mason finished up and waited with me on the sidelines. A mass of souls waited behind us, some crying, some yelling. Some didn't say anything. We waited for them all to show. One of the EMTs fell into the water, causing a distraction. A few more people died and showed up in our group.

Helping groups of dead cross over is easier than just one single soul. Group mindset is involved. If a few people accept it, more will join in. Oh, well if ten other people died then I guess it's ok that I did, too.

We meet at Der Waffle Haus at the end of the day. Roxy had to go to the hospitals for a few more souls, and Rube waited around all day for a few of his guys to show up. I had to head into work, where all I heard about all day was how tragic the ferry accident was.

We're all exhausted and emotionally drained. It's not like we do such a reap every day.

"Before I forget, this letter is for you, Mason." We had been eating in silence, but Rube's voice pulled me out of reliving the ferry ride this morning. Mason snatches the letter from Rube's hand and rips it open. He reads over the crisp white paper with a confusion that quickly turns into anger.

"No, that's not right at all! I didn't request this!"

"Watch your volume. It's your time."

"Wha do ya mean?"

"You've been in one place long enough. It's time for another change."

"Then I'll go to the office and change my appearance. I'm not leaving."

"They need you down in Texas."

"Like bloody hell they do!"

"Again, watch your volume. This is a family restaurant. Do we need to take this outside?"

The two of them got up and continued their screaming outside, leaving the paper behind. I picked it up and read through it.

"He's being reassigned." There's a buzzing in my head. I don't know what from. But I can't think. I get out of my seat and walk out of the restaurant, past the two of them arguing, and slide into my car. I drive off and away. I keep driving for the next two hours until I run out of gas and find a station where I stop and finally cry.

When I return home, there's no one inside. I half expected Mason to be waiting in the living room or in my bed, ready to tell me everything was going to be fine, that he fixed it. He didn't have to leave.

But he wasn't there.

And neither was Daisy.

Instead there was a note on the fridge – 'Went out. Mason stopped by. You weren't here.'

I pull out my cell and call Rube.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Hey peanut. Where've you been?"

"I went for a drive. What the fuck is going on?"

"Was it a scenic drive? Did you head up to the mountains?"

"I wasn't watching. Just driving. What the fuck is going on?"

"That's a shame. The trees are beautiful this time of year."

"What the fuck is going on with Mason, Rube?"

"And here I thought you called just to make small talk."

"I swear to god, Rube, I can't take your fucking games."

"I'm not playing any, peanut. Mason's been stationed here in Seattle for a long time. Boss says it's time for him to be relocated. Happens to all of us from time to time. Can't let people catch on."

"What about Betty? She was here since her death and she didn't ever move!"

"She kept up with her paperwork, filed the necessary requests when it was time. Mason is a fuck-up. He's lucky to have stayed here the ten years that he has."

"So you're saying a few papers are all that's taking him away?!"

"Listen, peanut, you're wasting my minutes here."

"It's after nine-o'clock, Rube! You get free nights!"

Silence.

"Talk to him. He has some decisions to make."

I hang up on him. Fucking fucker. Of course Mason has some decisions to make. Like whether he dumps me now or just leaves without another word.

I call Mason. He doesn't answer. So I get in my car and go over to his place. Rube's truck is parked outside, and the man himself is sitting in the driver's seat. He opens the passenger's side door, and I climb in.

"He's not here," he states. No shit.

I just stare straight ahead.

"This is for you."

He holds up a post-it.

"I thought we were done for the day."

He just stares at me. I take the note. The death is in twenty minutes, and it's across town.

"Fuck you, Rube."

I make it to the location to find Mason sitting on a bench across the street. I'm tired and upset and confused, but I have to finish this fucking reap. I ignore him and track down my R. Tisdale. When I pull out her soul, I cross the road and sit beside him. His eyes are red, but for probably the first time in his life it probably isn't due to drugs or alcohol. And he's shaking.

"Georgia, I don't know what to do."

I can't look at him. I don't know the rules and regulations of being a reaper, and I don't understand why he has to leave.

"George, I have to leave in the morning. Rube has my plane ticket."

This isn't fair. Fuck, life wasn't fair to me, why should my after life be any different?

"Don't go. Don't get on the plane, don't leave the city, don't do anything. Send your replacement down to Houston."

"Rube won't help. Says it's time I stop bothering him and move on."

"He's just pissed about us! That fucking asshole! You can't leave! I need you here!" I still can't look at him, but I can feel his gaze on me.

"I don't want to go, George. I don't want to lose you." He slides his hand around mine. I look over at him and lose it, tears falling out of my eyes like I had never cried before.

"I don't know what to do, Mason. I don't know what to do."

We're holding each other on the bench, his tears are in my hair and mine are on his neck.

When we finally get it together, we walk back to my car and drive back to his shitty apartment. Rube was gone, but a post-it was left on his door.

'Waffle Haus – 6 am.'

His apartment is a fucking hell hole. There are a few piles of dirty clothes just laying around sprouting a award winning science projects, the kitchen is fighting for a prize of its own, and the bathroom is certainly no honorable mention. It's disgusting. He pushes a pile of things off his bed to make room for me and motions for me to sit beside him.

I don't think I can form any sounds with my throat as I stare up into his eyes. I'm scared and angry as hell and I think I can actually feel my heart breaking in my chest. Fuck it hurts.

We are staring at each other, watching the others pain and sorrow. And he leans over and plants the softest and sweetest kiss on my lips. I feel like I'm floating as he moves his lips around mine, sucks on my skin, prods my frozen lips with his tongue. I think I'm slightly confused by his action, but the physical connection is soothing and something my body is liking. So I let him lay me down on his bed and let him explore my mouth. His hands are busy exploring my body. _Mason's getting to second base with me _screams in the back of my mind, but I can't hear it cause I think we're nearing third. And then home plate is in sight.

Clothes are being shed, and our hunger is getting more forceful, more aggressive. The only other guy I've been with this way was Trip, and that feels like ages ago. But I remember the morning after being with him, and then the morning after I asked Mason to stay with me… I can't ruin this moment, this time with him by thinking of that. I stretch up and kiss him while he works at sliding off my underwear. It's a little awkward fooling around with him, but I think our desperation makes it all okay.

He stares at me the entire time. He's kissing with his eyes open. He finds a way to do everything with one eye on my face. When he fucks me, he keeps his gaze locked on my eyes. I can't look away. He's trapped me, and it makes everything better.

When we're both spent, he finds a towel and cleans us off before curling up next to me, his arms and legs wrapped around me like I'm going to feel the need to run away in the middle of the night and leave him alone. I find my phone in the pile of clothes on the bed and set the alarm before falling asleep on his chest, his erratic breathing reminding me that he was still there.


End file.
